


Daminette December- Inspiration

by Saltyfang



Series: Daminette December [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Bashing, Daminette December 2020, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltyfang/pseuds/Saltyfang
Summary: Marinette is Damian's inspiration. Damian is Marinette's inspiration. But it wasn't always like that. At one point, they hated each other.Do they still have it out for each other? And why does Marinette hate capes?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Series: Daminette December [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038626
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Daminette December- Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> I've already failed the challenge. Damn it. I meant to upload this on the 1st but well I couldn't leave it half finished.

Marinette had become accustomed to betrayal over the years. It had been one of her most loyal companions. It had first appeared when she was still in ecolé to college. Her classmates would watch as Chloé tormented her with her bratty tantrums and swayed them with her silver tongue.

They had watched Marinette pour her heart and soul countless times into her work but now especially. She had put everything into her present- a portrait of Miss Bustier and a heartfelt poem- for her favourite teacher. She’d been so happy when the class complimented her painting but had felt disappointment course through her as they turn around purposefully ignorant to the situation. 

  
They had thrown her to the most vicious wolf, allowing Chloé to vandalise her work with the pink of her smoothie. And she wasn’t even **SUPPOSED** to have it with her. It was only because she was the daughter of the _awfully corrupt_ mayor of Paris and the feared Style Queen. It wasn’t fair and everyone knew it.

Yet the class watched with poorly hidden interest as Chloé placed the damp, crumpled paper in her hands. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the tyrant smeared the rest of her berry blast smoothie on Marinette’s scarlet flower girl dress. So yes, Marinette knew the sting of betrayal. It hadn’t made it hurt any less though.

  
“Your Uncle is going to adore you in that dress.” Sabine cooed whilst checking if everything fit.” Are you sure you can keep everything clean? You know how important this is to Jared and more importantly you.”

  
“Maman,” she whined “I’m a big girl now. Everything will be just fine. Pinky promise?”

  
“Pinky promise.”

  
Damian had expected to be a puppet the League his whole life. Submitting to their whims and fulfilling the missions they’d assigned to him. The first time he had killed someone, he had nightmares for the week. He saw their blood on his palms no matter how many times he had scrubbed his hands clean of the rouge tinge. He still smelt the metallic scent linger in the air. He felt the guilt gnaw at him. And yet he kept quiet, Al Ghul’s didn’t feel pity so he shouldn’t either.

Even if they considered him a pawn or an inconvenience, he was still an Al Ghul by blood.

  
And... apparently he wasn’t even that. Talia had just deposited him at the Wayne Manor, home to children who had tragic backstories and issues. Yay. He had expected it to happen he knew he wasn’t wanted there anyways. His acceptance had done nothing to ease his pain rather it fueled it. The numbness never kicked in because he felt too aware of the hurt he had been feeling. With a short rap on the door, he schooled his face keeping it neutral whilst his eyes remained apathetic.

He kept his gaze straight, unwavering and yet the signs of his pain were there if you looked close enough. The sheen coating his eyes and the small hunch of his shoulders displayed his vulnerability as Alfred ushered him in. So yes, Damian knew how it felt to be someone else’s puppet. And he never wanted to feel that- be that again.

  
Everything was not fine. Marinette had broken her promise. Her dress had dark spots littered across it as though she were a ladybug. Worst of all, she would disappoint everyone. Honestly, she wanted to rip out Chloé’s stupid blonde highlights out but she couldn’t get a detention today. Not on her uncle’s big day. And anyways, the world wasn’t ready for **that** disaster. _Not by a long shot._ Right now, she’d let that snake win, even if her pride had been bashed in the process. It would be worth it to see her favourite (and only) uncle happy.

  
Damian had allowed himself to be herded in. He had to fit into the defenceless category somehow. He watched the serial adopter watch him closely with thinly veiled suspicion. It was fair, he had no reason to be there and he sure as hell wasn’t going to explain why he was.

He’d been so caught up analysing his father’s stance- which by the way left him completely open- that he hadn’t noticed his shoulders shaking. He felt surprised as warmth enveloped his shoulders. He was slightly surprised as he saw a plate of cookies placed in front of him. He watched Bruce out of his peripherals before glancing at the plate and Alfred. 

  
“Eat one first.” He demanded. _Excuse him for thinking people he barely knew would try and poison him. Oh the horror._

  
“Master Damian,” He heard them collectively gasp. ”I believe you forgot your manners. Let’s try that again, shall we?” How had he known his name? He never said it out loud and he was going to give them a fake name. Was his father that incompetent that he hadn’t even known his son’s own name. What the hell? At least he kept tabs on all of them.

  
“Master Damian?” Alfred beckoned.

  
“Damian Al Ghul.” he stated. The words he uttered next made his skin crawl. “Please eat one.” His tongue felt heavy as he gritted out each word.  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Grayson bound away in search of ‘adoption papers', Drake turn with a pout on his face but most interesting of all... Bruce had frozen at the mention of Al Ghul. Had he known of his affiliation with the League? Or did he remember his mother? He could see that Alfred had already realised who he was, yet remarkably, he was playing the fool. Tt. Two could play that game.

  
Marinette knew that Chloé knew she had won. The smug smile told her everything she needed to know. Although, she was confused as to why she had bit her lip and fiddled with the hem of her dress. Chloé never fiddled or bit her lip- it was too common for her.

She hadn’t realised tears had settled in Chloé's eyes. She had realised the innocent stance she’d assumed or how her lower lip trembled. Marinette had been so caught off guard by Miss Bustier’s appearance that she was left flailing wildly by Chloe’s loud wails. Like seriously, her lung capacity was insane. 

  
“Why is Chloé crying?”

  
“Marinette’s being a bully. She ruined my gift for you. She’s even holding the ripped shreds in her hands.” Honestly, this girl deserved a Tony or an Oscar or something with her skill. It was a shame that she couldn’t use her power for good. Marinette sighed, knowing that she’d be blamed for it.

  
“Is that true, Marionette?”

  
“It’s Marinette. And no, it’s not. Chloé doesn’t have an artistic bone in her. Chloé is being-well- _Chloé_.”

  
“That was uncalled for, Marinette.”

  
“My painting is ruined. You were my muse, my inspiration.” Said Chloé, a pout clear on her lips. 

  
“Fifth year in a row and you’re going to believe her again. You have an easy way to garner proof and yet because she’s the mayor’s daughter, she’s suddenly _exempt_?”

  
“Well, what do you think I should do?”

  
“Check the darn cameras? Be a competent teacher? Actually notice things happening?”

  
“There’s no need for that. Of course I’m telling the truth. Why would you believe **her**?”

"Marinette, you _do_ stretch the truth sometimes."

  
“Wow. No need to show me where the detention hall is. Being in there for years really makes a difference. When you find out I’m right as well, I’ll already have moved classes. No one in here talks to me much except for when they need favours.” The class flocked to her side, reassuring her that it wasn’t true. That they loved talking to her. It had become quite obvious to her that they’d confused love and betrayal with each other.

  
Marinette cackled as Miss Bustier lectured her about the Marinette’s of the world with the same blank expression on her face. Yet, she had somehow managed to plaster a sickly smile on which did nothing to ‘soothe' Marinette as she had hoped. It actually just creeped her out. So, she left. Left with her head held high and as she left the building, she sprinted to the venue.

  
Her parents were angry to say the least. Just as she had predicted. Although, they weren’t angry at her. More disappointed at the state that the dress ended up in. But the basket covered most of the stain anyways. To make up for it, she took her flower duties incredibly seriously. She scattered the petals just right with a cutesy smile on her face.

  
Afterwards though, she dove under a table, avoided Chloé and her snooty posse. Their fake nasally laughs were worse than nails on chalkboard.

  
“I’m glad _someone_ agrees.”

  
_She wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t scream._

  
She screamed. Or at least tried to as she felt something silence her.

  
“Did no one ever teach you how to read the room? Quiet down. I’d rather not be found by the moronic buffoons with rocks for brains.” She said nothing, only raising her eyebrows and gesturing to her mouth. “Promise not to scream.” She frantically nodded her head, glaring at him.

  
“So,” she started, attempting to break through the awkward silence. “Do you have any **normal** hobbies or do you just sit under tables?”

  
“Little lady,” she harrumphed, indignant at the blatant mockery of her height. “If we start talking about what I like, then we’re going to get into illegal territory. And I’m not having that conversation with you. So, we can either sit in silence or complain about the demon that is Bourgeois.”

  
“She’s already frustrating you, huh?”

  
“She’s giving me a migraine and I’ve only known her for what? 2 hours?”

  
“Imagine dealing with her from the first 12 years of your life.”

  
“Send my condolences to whoever had to be with her that long. She tried to have me thrown out because I didn’t trip over my feet because she was charming.“

  
“You think that’s bad? Try having your business be shut down because she found a loophole and was going to sue the hell out of you. For money that you didn’t even have. And another thing, don’t call me ‘little lady'.”

  
“Fine, I’ll call you butterscotch.”

  
“Why did you call me butterscotch, of everything available? _Sweet cheese_ , I’m friends with a weirdo.”

  
“The only weirdo is you. I saw you with the wrapper of a butterscotch in your hand. Plus, at least I don’t look like I shit pink paint and glitter.”

  
“Touché, cookie.”

  
“Cookie?”

  
“You had one in your hand earlier.” Marinette refused to make eye contact with him, feeling incredibly embarrassed at her stupid childish nickname. The ground had been more interesting until she heard him laugh. It made his eyes twinkle and his dimples were more apparent and Marinette. _Marinette was a goner._ He had enchanted her and she couldn’t look away.   
“Do I have crumbs on my face?” He whispered, once he dried his eyes. His question snapped Marinette out of her trance as she heard herself say ‘no' faintly. Although, they hadn’t been quiet enough as her parents had found her. Tom had gone into dad mode- baring his teeth and putting himself in front of Marinette whilst Sabine helped him out from under the table. They had taken her home instantly, beginning the interrogation in the car.

  
In her haste, a 16-year-old Marinette would forget to ask Damian for his number. And that would be the biggest regret of the night.

  
_** Time skip ** _

  
A 21 year old Damian had been assigned to meet with the class president of 1-C. She had been incredibly familiar to him and yet his brain locked the piece of information to finish the puzzle away from him. It was just as well because she was quite annoying and incredibly persistent in trying to get him to sign up for her program. He knew he had perfect grades but it didn’t mean he wanted to help her get higher grades.

  
“Please, sir. You’d be perfect for the job. And if you don’t mind me saying so, you look really familiar.” So, he hadn’t been the only one to notice it. Something clicked in the back of his mind the longer he stared at her.

  
“Butterscotch?”

  
“Cookie-I mean Damian? Is that you?”

  
“It’s you? The girl who hid under the table with me.”

  
“That’s me. I am her.”

  
“And I am not helping you with this ‘project’.”

  
“Damn, Damian. You need to be my model.” She said, hearts in her eyes.

  
“Tt. No way.”

  
“Please, it will be fun.”

  
“Fun isn’t something that will convince me to help.”

  
“I’ll totally flunk my class and you-Mr. My grades are never below an A- will be responsible.”

  
“Fine. What an inconvenience. When do we start?”

  
“Tomorrow?”

  
“Ugh, I’ll email Pennyworth. He’ll help to arrange my schedule. And you’re using me as your model, we’re not using a dingy motel. I’ll make a reservation and send it to you. Now if you have nothing else to bother me with, I’ll be on my way.”

  
“Daygood. I mean goodbye?” When she was sure he was out of sight, she whispered to herself. “What’s got his knickers in a twist? And why am I stuttering?”

  
“I think I know why. You-"

  
“ ** _Hate_** him. That must be it. That arrogant, cold, kind, persuasive, _hot-wait_ I was going somewhere with this.”

  
“Were you really?” muttered Tikki, exasperated with her chosen’s stubbornness.

  
“Yes. I hate him. He’s too cold and brooding and his green eyes are so honest but piercing. Still, he'd make a good model, maybe as good as Adrien.”

  
“You’ve got to stop thinking about him, Marinette. He broke you too much for you to go crawling back to him.”

  
“I know Tikki. But humans are just complicated.”

  
“ _You can say that again.”_

  
“I know he’s a lying cheating good for nothing player. But I also know how sweet, charming, caring and loyal he could be. And when I remember him, those good parts overshadow the bad parts. And I have no clue on what to do.” She had seen her phone light up through the tears and reached out to check what notification it was. No one normally texted her, so it would be nice to be talked to for a change.

  
“Miss Dupain-Cheng, that’s not the nicest way to talk about your client. I know I’m cold but I think you just lowered the room to below zero degrees.” Just when she thought her day couldn’t be worse, it got worse. She made it even worse in her haste to answer his message. Her thumb slipped, landing on the option to video call.

  
“Marinette,”

  
“Damian, are you still at the hotel? Because I can hear you really clearly.”

  
“Marinette, who made you cry?”

  
“ _Whaaat?_ I’m not crying. _How can you see me?”_

  
“Look down. I’m on your phone. But answer my question, butterscotch. Who made you cry?”

  
“No one. It was just me being stupid."

  
“Hey. Hey. Only I’m allowed to call you stupid.” A hollow laugh rang through the phone’ speaker, providing no comfort. Instead, it made his stomach churn. “Do you want me to come over?”

  
“I’d never trouble you like that. Just, _just_ go home. I’ll be fine by myself.” Damian didn’t trust her words at all and he wanted to tell her that. To insist that it wouldn’t be any trouble. To let her rant whilst he sat patiently, waiting for her to relax. But he couldn’t. He felt his tongue become tied as she ended the call. He deserved her hate. After all, he was hating himself right now.

  
If Damian arrived earlier than he had said for the reservation, then no one needed to know. After all, punctuality was key. Although, his partner's sense of time seemed to have completely disappeared. He could see her, sprinting as her pale blue petticoat swished from side to side.

She looked absolutely exhausted, if the red rings and bags under her eyes were anything to go by. But they shone with such ferocity, that they almost completely obscured the flaws. He found himself continually being lost in the depth of her eyes, only snapping out of it once he heard something important.

  
“What time do you call this, Miss?”

  
“Fashionably late?”  
“Don’t you mean, _fashionably latte_?” He said gesturing to her half full cup. Aghast, he slapped his hand over his mouth in shock at making a pun that Dick would appreciate. And then, he heard her giggles. They were breathy and high pitched but they managed to make him forget about his mistake.

  
‘Marry me.’ He thought, enraptured by not only her beauty but her character and professionalism.

  
“You’ll have to take me out on a date first.”

  
“Oh, I didn’t realise I said that out loud. A date would be tolerable.”

  
“We are technically on one right now.”

  
“No.” Yelled Damian, perturbed as to why it bothered him so much. As to why he needed the date to be perfect. “ _No_. I want to take you out on a real date. We’re both overdressed for a first date. This is time for our project.” 

  
“Indeed it is. Let’s get to it. The theme is heroes and vigilantes.”

  
Designing for heroes.

  
The most difficult assignment.

  
He had been so excited at first, to try and capture the essence of their... _awesomeness_. The feeling that he would get when one whizzed past him, the feeling of being left awestruck. So, obviously, his first instinct was to call out ‘Cape’. If anyone asked him what his biggest fear was, it would still be the face Marinette had made. 

  
The face that said quite literally ** _‘so you’ve chosen death.’_** And in a sense, he had. He had fallen into the trap of gawking right at her. Her eyes narrowed yet sparkling with life, blue yet flecks of gold jumped out at him. Her hair, shiny, silky and soft, cascading down her back in subtle waves. Her nose scrunched up, in disgust, perhaps but a hint of playful annoyance lingered. Everything made him fall a little more in love with her. And in that sense, he had chosen death. 

  
“No capes! Do you understand?”

  
“Yes ma’am!” He had understood her instructions but if that didn’t take his heart out... They brainstormed for hours, before they reached a compromise. He could have a Cape, if he really wanted to. But that was it. Nobody else was allowed one. At least, for her project. 

  
It didn’t faze him when she aced the project. Maybe it was the bond that they created or the chemistry between them or the lingering marriage proposal but they worked as a unit. Even when their work was sabotaged, they knew exactly what to do. So, of course she aced the test. How couldn’t she with a partner like Damian.

  
Every project ended up with them working together. It wasn’t uncommon for Marinette to leave Damian’s house in his clothes and if anyone had seen them kissing in public, well they had seen wrong. Incredibly wrong. They weren’t exactly a typical lovey dovey couple in public although they had their moments. Typically though, they acted like a married couple so it was no surprise when the question was popped.

Marinette proposed first, although Damian would deny as he asked a year ago. Being happily married, they couldn’t complain about who asked first though. They just loved being in each other’s company. _The real reason was because they couldn't agree on who fell in love first, so the marriage evened the scores out._

  
“Marinette, why did you grow to like me? I thought I was cold and cruel.”

  
“I’m _never_ going to live this one down am I?”

  
“Nope.”

  
“Well Dami, you were an inspiration-my inspiration. I’d always idolised Adrien, I never really viewed him as human until I found out what he was doing behind my back. My heart was shattered and you came in and I could clearly see your flaws. There was no reason to put you on a pedestal, so I wanted to challenge you.”

  
“With kisses?”

  
“I just wanted a challenge. I didn’t think I’d actually fall for you instead of defeating you and laughing at your expense.”

  
“Wow. You’re no angel.”

  
“But you live me anyways. And I love you too. Hopefully, we’ll love this new girl on the way.” Cooed Marinette, her hands resting on her little baby bump. Damian’s lips twitched, an upwards curl forming at the top of his lip. He’d love his wife and his unborn girl with all his heart. 

  
_After all, they were his inspiration._


End file.
